Art has been a means of expression throughout time and space-- coming in various forms, like music, poetry, paintings, drawings, etc. I think the ways in which art acts as a cathartic medium for marginalized groups is especially interesting, as these groups have their voices suppressed by dominant structures to the point where they have essentially no say in how they are perceived by the larger society. Therefore, art can be a way to reclaim this voice, this ownership over perception. Within this broad category of art, I believe that street art/urban art/graffiti is especially notable because of its very clear message: "I own this space." While this may not be legally true, this fact still offers a metaphorical ownership over space, something that is extremely important in taking back and laying claim to one's identity. In Eva Youkhana's article "Creative Activism and Art Against Urban Renaissance and Social Exclusion – Space Sensitive Approaches to the Study of Collective Action and Belonging" offers many interesting ideas on urban art and its potential for social activism. The most intriguing ideas that I came across were concerned with street art as a means of re-appropriating urban space, creating a different urban imaginary, and the ways in which street art can be considered (sub)cultural expressions. I think that urban art has great potentials for activism, as Youkhana points out, because it allows marginalized groups to have a voice through making a public, visible space, marked as their own.In particular, I am interested in the differences, perceived or otherwise, between street art and graffiti. I've brought this up in class discussion, and it's been talked about in some of my other classes as well. To me, urban art and graffiti have widely different connotations. Graffiti is seen as something negative-- an act of vandalism that necessitates the prosecution of the criminal "artist." Likewise, graffiti is often conflated with other ideas, particularly concerning racial and class-related stereotypes. The "undesirables" do graffiti, and they sully the cleanliness of the public arena. However, street art means something completely different, at least to me. The connotation of "street" or "urban" art implies that there's some form of allowance or acceptance by the broader society-- even the word "art" denotes its value. However, street art can sometimes start out as what one might consider vandalism-- an illegal contribution to a public space that happens to be deemed acceptable enough to stay. Artists such as Banksy have proven this-- technically, what Banksy does is graffiti, as it has been painted over and taken down in many places, but still it sometimes remains and has gained rapid popularity and recognition because of the social commentary it provides. In this sense, it is deemed "acceptable." Other times, street art is commissioned by the local government in order to "beautify" or improve an area. For example, the 46th St. mural in Seattle was created to "link the neighborhoods of Fremont and Wallingford" and boasts sprawling designs, saccharine colors, and widespread acceptance. Because street art and graffiti are essentially the same thing-- a drawing or visual representation of something in a public place, why are they viewed so differently? I think, as Youkhana mentions, this stems from the difference in intention behind the art. In commissioned street art, there is no true "claiming space" or "asserting identity" since those who contribute to and are represented by the art are not marginalized, so these types of public art are more for beautification purposes, as with the 46th St. mural. There is no underlying narrative that could be controversial. With less acceptable forms of street art, like Banksy, there is some underlying narrative, but in general it is not controversial enough to be considered sullying to the public space it situates itself in. Perhaps it is because Bansky is a white man, presumably middle-class, and only speaks to larger societal issues that a large majority of the population (white, middle-class) agree with. In graffiti, this is not true. Those who graffiti or tag places are often not white, not middle-class, and largely marginalized by larger society. Therefore, this assertion of space is deemed as threatening to the status quo, which is why it is looked down upon. Likewise, the narrative offered in graffiti ("I am here, I deserve to be here, I deserve to occupy and claim this space") goes against most hegemonic notions and societal norms, and is therefore an "unacceptable" form of demonstrating one's belonging to place. It is for these reasons, however, that graffiti matters the most among other forms of public art in the quest to fight for marginalized groups. Graffiti is a way to assert identity and ownership, and listening to those voices is essential in bringing justice and equality.

Of the topics listed in the program description, I found myself most drawn to "investigation of identity reformulation" for migrant populations and "borders and frontiers," the latter focusing on US/Mexican and East/West Germany borders. Identity reformulation relates well to the NPR article on "Becoming a German: What Does It Mean?" as well as the Bonny Norton excerpt. In the NPR article, Sylvia Poggioli mentions that it's been less than a decade since Germany abolished the "citizen only by blood" law, but the deemed "people of migrant origin" still struggle to be accepted and welcomed by the larger German population. This terminology and the general reluctance regarding immigrant communities raises questions about identity reformulation-- how are the identities of migrant populations (or anyone not obviously "German," i.e. white) going to change knowing that they live in a country that still questions their validity in being there? One elected official, a Turkish man, said that "Maybe I am not a pure German, so call me a new German." This distinction between pure and new also complicates identity formation and implies that there are different levels of being German-- one pure, one new, and presumably others. Through this distinction, is a hierarchy created? How does one's identity change when making the transition from one country to another, and being seen as, at best "new," but perhaps more commonly, as an outsider? How does this change the way one views and interacts with others and oneself? Examples of possible outcomes are seen in Norton's piece, as she describes the stories of several immigrants and how their identities shifted upon entering a new country. In "European Others," Fatima El-Tayeb speaks of "identity policing" and microaggressions that enable those in power (those who are seen as "pure" German, American, etc) to shape and morph the identities of migrant populations. El-Tayeb mentions the question "How do you speak German so fluently?" as one of the ways in which minority identities are policed and reformed. This resonates in the US as well, as anyone who is not white is often questioned, sometimes even praised, for their use of proper English-- assuming that if you're not white, you're from somewhere else and therefore do not speak English or even deserve to identify as American without significant work and assimilation. These methods of identity policing, as well as the "colorblindness" that El-Tayeb mentions, seek to invalidate migrant identities, claiming their background makes them lesser, and that their culture has no significance or importance-- effectively reformulation their identities. The "borders and frontiers" theme also piques my interest, perhaps because this is a topic I had just discussed in my class on spatial politics earlier this week. We talked at length about borders and borderlands-- the area of tension surrounding a border (not just around a physical border, but around the lives of those who have experienced the harshness of a border). This is extremely interesting when talking about US and Mexico relations, since the US border is so unbelievably politicized and rigid, that is has become not just a tangible structure, but a concept and a way of analyzing identities and national relations. Brian Ladd spoke a bit to this idea in "The Ghosts of Berlin" through his investigation of the Berlin Wall. The Wall became "a temporal more than spatial barrier" and had much larger psychosocial consequences that persisted long after the majority of the Wall was torn down. Even now, it could be argued, the idea of the Wall still acts as a temporal border, permanently reflected in the German population and national identity even though it no longer functions as a spatial border. Over the past couple of weeks, we've been discussing in class possible research topics and groups. I had some initial, vague, broad, ideas: gender and sexuality studies, dialects and accents as they relate to national identity, discrepancies in access to education... etc. However, after discussing with my peers, I rested on a really intriguing topic: national identity and memorialization. I'm interested most in how a sense of national identity is fostered through the creation of memorials, and how those memorials further create a sense of national pride or national disdain (the former being more common, I presume). This is particularly interesting, as I mentioned in my first blog post, because Germany has the Berlin Wall, a memorial which was accidental and reflective of a negative time in the country's history. How does the presence of this wall influence a national identity for Berliners and Germans? Memorials like the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, Mount Rushmore, and others seem to only focus on the great people of the United States' history-- even war memorials serve to only remember the fallen US soldiers, but fail to address the harm and pain the country caused by being involved in various wars. Does this foster a sense of national pride that is skewed and undeserved? Do other German memorials have a similar effect? I might be also interested in tying these ideas to the "other," i.e. how the presence of memorials shapes a narrow but strong national identity to the point of exclusion of immigrant populations because they do not, and apparently cannot, have this same sense of connection and belonging to the specific country.

"Identity signals the way a person understands his or her relationship to the world, how that relationship is constructed through time and space, and how the person understands possibilities for the future." Bonny Norton, "Identity and Poststructuralist Theory in SLA"

Poststructuralism, like its friend postmodernism, really intrigues me. In previous coursework, I have been introduced to postmodernism and its denouncement of binaries and stable identity categories, particularly related to gender and sexuality issues. Through Norton's article, I find that poststructuralism can be applied to language and second language acquisition as being integral to identity formation. It is clear that "identities are contingent, shifting, and context-dependent," as people often change how they speak, to whom they speak, and about what they speak, depending on the context and other factors. This idea is exacerbated through the lens of second language learners living in a country other than their home country. I feel that especially in the United States, second language learners or English language learners are looked down upon for their apparent inability to communicate effectively with others. (I've seen snide remarks posted on the Internet about this situation: if a native English speaker can't speak Spanish after 4 years of classes in high school, why should they demean people who can't fully speak English but live here regardless?) Interactions with native speakers are crucial in identity formation for second language learners, because I feel often these native speakers have authority over whether a second language learner is successful at assimilating into, or passing as being native to, the particular nation's culture. Likewise, it appears that second language learners who are living outside of their country of origin may be plagued with an identity crisis-- living in a country whose language they do not speak with obvious fluency, yet separated from their home culture has huge ramifications on their sense of identity and place and relationship between the two. A question that came to me during the reading related to this idea: is it possible to preserve history, culture, and heritage while still feeling apart of another culture or nation, or is assimilation necessary in order to be accepted by dominant structures? I feel this is an issue that is relevant to many minorities or marginalized groups who struggle for acceptance but also wish to maintain a sense of community that is uniquely theirs. Norton addresses specifically the issues of identity formation in the classroom and how poststructuralist theory can help teachers and other staff members think critically about their classroom practices. Recognizing the existence of multiple identities, Norton claims, can help educators effectively teach and help their students instead of assuming that one strategy, activity, or teaching pace will be helpful for all students (this is obviously not true, as seen through the vignettes Norton provides). Through my work at the Odegaard Writing and Research Center, I have been exposed to many discussions about ELLs and their language acquisition process. I think learning more about the strategies used to help in SLA are extremely important, as this initial education will make a huge impact in a second language learner's identity in the country as a whole. Thinking more broadly to the program in Germany, this article is especially pertinent to the studies of migration and immigrant populations, as often these groups are marginalized because language barriers deem them as lesser or undeserving of being marked as a "German" or an "American," etc. Investigating more into immigrant populations and their experiences with language acquisition would be interesting. What is it about language that makes it integral to identity formation in a particular country, perhaps more so than outward appearances or other external signifiers?

Prompt: "Based on the readings from last week and for this upcoming week, what are your thoughts about the following four narratives of the city of Berlin:

Berlin as a city of the Wall

Berlin as a global city

Berlin as a city of the European Union

Berlin as a city of immigrants

How do you see these narratives as a reflection of German identity? How does this compare to an American identity?"

Berlin, and any large city around the world, has a lot of different aspects to its identity and the identities of those who live there. Berlin can definitely be analyzed as a city of the Wall, as this structure is what it is best known for. As discussed briefly in the last post, the Berlin Wall is a defining characteristic of German identity, as it represents a huge part of the country's past. Germans can perhaps be seen as being defined by this wall, by this history, whether they want to or not. Talking about Berlin as a city of the Wall then brings many different perspectives and memories from different personal backgrounds and beliefs, though through the reading I've done and my past knowledge, it seems that the Berlin Wall is largely talked about without mentioning other identity divisions-- like race, gender, or immigration status. How do these descriptors affect the way Germans view the Wall or identify in relation to it? Berlin has definitely become a global city in the sense that what happens in Berlin affects a large amount of people, from a large amount of places, with a large amount of experiences. Our reading, "The Age of Migration," offered a really interesting interpretation on global cities that affects and is affected by the other narratives in the prompt. Global cities, at their core, are multi-cultural, and can often be interpreted as having large amounts of migration, and "The Age of Migration" makes note that "ethnic clustering and community formation may be seen as necessary products of migration to global cities" (229). This process of clustering or community forming may have bad consequences, like increased discrimination and racism against these minority groups, but good outcomes are also possible, such as "enrichment of urban life and culture." (Though this could be interpreted as tokenism and appropriating cultures for the sake of renewal and improvement for tourism purposes, for example.) Global cities are always changing and morphing, and this means that the identity of Berlin as a global city, or the identity of Germans who view Berlin as a global city, is also dynamic. It will be interesting to examine exactly how these identities are formed and reflected and whether they vary among populations in Germany depending on how the inhabitants view the global city (either in a positive or negative light). Being a part of the European Union gives a very interesting perspective on identity formation. Does this lead to "othering" or another process similar? Is there a sense of something beyond national pride-- but near-continental pride? "The Age of Migration" cites the formation of the EU as being necessary to create a unified labor market-- but the EU also made it harder for non-EU citizens to enter into the EU countries. This deeply impacted immigration policies, and it would be interesting to research the changes in German identity before and after the formation of the EU-- were people more open to immigration and migrant populations prior to the EU? Is there a stricter definition of what makes someone German now, compared to before? The EU undoubtedly impacted the narrative of Berlin as a city of immigrants. I feel that this narrative can be discussed in two ways. One, a positive interpretation, wherein a mosaic model is used to propose that Berlin is a city where a variety of cultures come together in a good way; "everyone is an immigrant and our city is built and thrives upon that fact." The second, a negative interpretation, where Berlin is a city of immigrants and this has erased any sort of national or city identity, and now there is no "true" Berliner. The reading surprised me when Germany was described as having a very strict immigration policy-- the "guestworker" policy where "such countries tried to prevent family reunion, were reluctant to grant secure residence status and had highly restrictive naturalization rules" (221). This fact gives me the impression that the latter interpretation of Berlin as a city of immigrants would be the most popular narrative.I was also surprised that the US was described as having the most accommodating immigration policies-- encouraging family reunions and treating most immigrants as future citizens. Somehow I have a very hard time believing this, given my previous knowledge on how migrant populations are dehumanized and discriminated against all over the country. This brings to mind important questions about American identities. In my podunk suburban town, I have seen and heard many comments that degrade immigrants (for example, a bumper sticker on a large pickup truck that read: "This truck wasn't made with chopsticks") and I feel the narrative about the US as a country of immigrants is an uncommon, or at least unwanted, narrative or identifier. America is the land of the free and the home of the brave, but only if you're white and fluent in English and most likely male and straight. These are the dominant narratives I see in our US society, and I'm interested to see if that holds true for Germany, specifically Berlin.

"Monuments are nothing if not selective aids to memory: they encourage us to remember some things and to forget others." Brian Ladd, "The Ghosts of Berlin"

The Berlin Wall is a strange monument indeed. The Wall is representative of a past that many Germans would rather forget, yet great lengths have been taken in order to preserve and protect the standing parts of the Wall that remain from further destruction. This struck me as interesting, as this reverses the typical understanding of a "monument." Well-known American "monuments" are extremely focused on influencing the public's selective memory by memorializing people and events that have positively affected the United States' history. I can't think of a monument that encapsulates a negative part of American history-- and this makes sense, because who would want to be reminded of the horrors of the past? But I do think that these events are extremely important to remember as a country and a citizen of that country. Reading about the Berlin Wall and its history was very interesting in this regard, because this structure serves as a reminder of a very dark period in world history, and therefore its relationship to the German public is extremely complex. How are German identities shaped by the existence of this reminder of the past? How are American identities shaped by the lack of these reminders, but instead a surfeit of monuments showing how great the country and its past inhabitants are? I also was intrigued by Lutz Rathenow's notion of the wall being a "zipper," both linking and dividing Germans. The Wall became a scapegoat of sorts-- allowing Germans to explain away any apparent disunity by blaming the existence of the Wall, therefore keeping the unified German identity in tact. This apparent disunity might be seen through examination of maps-- the East Berlin maps are described as having a huge blank space for the West Berlin side. This erasure of geography and, by extension, fellow Germans and their identities, is an example of the disunity felt by many Germans at the time. However, on the West Berlin maps, the Berlin Wall is denoted by a faint line, barely distinguishable from street markings. This seems to indicate more of a unity among the divided Berlin, or at least, some sort of hope for wholeness. How were these maps influential in the formation and upkeep of Berliner identities? Was the erasure of West Berlin particularly important in the identities of East Berliners? Did the barely-there Berlin Wall designation on West Berlin maps promote a certain kind of feeling towards East Germans, and how did this influence West German identities?

"From cars, coffee, and computers to wheat, water, and Windows software, practically everything that is bought and sold today represents the coming together of global economic ties." Matthew Sparke, "Introduction to Globalization"

Reading this chapter of an intro globalization textbook felt like reading "Capitalism for Beginners." From the first sentence onward, I felt like I was shoved back into high school, forced into pedestrian metacognitive exercises aimed to expand my view of the world, amazing and astounding me! (E.g. "Why are you reading this book? It seems like a simple question, and answers come easily to mind. It was recommended to you or is required reading for a class. It is about a topic that seems relevant, interesting, or, at least, socially important. And, of course, you bought it. But think again. What actually enabled that simple purchase to happen?") Perhaps I'm being too harsh, and perhaps my own anti-capitalism bias is permeating this reflection. But I did feel like this introduction to globalization wasn't quite what I was looking for-- borderline obnoxious alliteration explained concepts I was already familiar with (see quote), and history never interested me, especially economic history. However, I do see that this chapter was a good jumping off point for further topics surrounding globalization, particularly critical analysis of the increasing interconnectedness of our world. How is globalization affecting marginalized groups, both within and outside of first world countries? (Or, more specifically, how is capitalism affecting marginalized groups?) How are identities shaped as we are increasingly able to contact other people and access large amounts of information with the click of a button? Are national identities being compressed as our technological reach expands? These sorts of questions interest me concerning globalization, and I hope that reading more chapters might offer some insight beyond purely informational text.